


Don't Take Your Time With Me

by trashcangimmick



Series: Another Scene, More Shattered Glass [2]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alpha Steve Harrington, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Breeding Kink, Canon-Typical Violence, Choking, Consensual But Not Safe Or Sane, Edgeplay, Feral Behavior, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, It’s the Year of the Boy Pussy and Y’all Can’t Stop Me, Knotting, M/M, Mating Cycles/In-Heat, Omega Billy Hargrove, Pining, Rape Fantasy, Somnophilia, Spanking, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Wet & Messy, boy pussy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-05-31 06:22:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19420255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trashcangimmick/pseuds/trashcangimmick
Summary: Billy is usually a light sleeper. But when he’s drunk, it’s a completely different story.





	Don't Take Your Time With Me

**Author's Note:**

> Ladies, gentlemen, all y’alls, may I present the morally reprehensible garbage fire that nobody asked for. Reading the previous fic isn’t strictly necessary but for god’s sake **READ THEM TAGS**.

Billy is usually a light sleeper. Steve can’t get out of bed in the middle of the night, hell he can’t so much as roll over, without Billy waking up. Sometimes jolting a little. Like he’s afraid. Steve usually drapes an arm around him. Kisses him. Soothes him back to sleep. 

But when he’s drunk, it’s a completely different story. Once Billy passes out, he sleeps like the dead. Like, Steve can pick up Billy’s limbs and move them around, and Billy will keep on snoring. Steve knows this, because drunk Billy cuddles like it’s a personal attack. If he’s not clinging like an octopus with every limb wrapped around Steve’s body, he won’t stop until he reaches the high ground and manages to sprawl on top of Steve entirely. It’s kinda cute, but also it makes any actual rest difficult.

Drunk Billy in general is kind of a lot to cope with. 

Sometimes, he’s belligerent and acts like he wants to fight. Sometimes he’ll actually take a swing. Steve will have to wrestle him to the ground and pin him until he calms down, because if he doesn’t then Billy will keep hitting him. For the most part, he’s just extra slutty and not at all shy about it. Like, Steve thought Omegas weren’t very interested in sex outside of heat before he met Billy. He hasn’t even seen Billy in heat, and it still seems like he’s desperate to get fucked every hour of the day and night. 

When he’s real wasted, he’ll say things. Weird things. Ask Steve to choke him. Slap him. _Spank him._ Steve takes a lot of it in stride. It’s hot. Pinning Billy to the wall, wrapping a hand around his throat, lifting him up and fucking into him while he’s dripping wet. 

Still. It’s a new threshold when Billy tosses aside his seventh can of beer for the evening, climbs into Steve’s lap, stares at him with glassy eyes and says, “I want you to fuck me while I’m sleeping.”

“Uh… what?” Steve blinks. It’s hard to focus when Billy starts licking his neck. Nuzzling him. Biting gently. 

Billy’s wet. Hot and sticky. Steve can smell it. Could probably feel it through those too-tight jeans if he put a hand between Billy’s spread legs.

“Did I stutter?” Billy giggles, in that high-pitched, kind of manic way that he does. “I want you to crawl into bed while I’m out cold, shove my legs apart and fuck me as hard as you can. I want to wake up split open on your cock.”

Steve doesn’t know what to say to that. It’s an _unusual_ request. Like a lot of things that Billy asks for. But it’s also an undeniably stimulating prospect. Steve’s had half a chub for a while now. Because Billy smells good. And he looks good. And anytime Steve’s around him for more than five seconds he’s so goddamn horny.

“Not tonight, though.” Billy sits back. Smiling like a shark.

“Oh… OK?”

“I’d be expecting it. I want a surprise.”

***

The next time Billy gets drunk and passes out at Steve’s house, it seems like a good opportunity. It feels weird, rolling Billy onto his back and nudging his thighs apart. Billy snuffles and squirms a little, but doesn’t open his eyes or anything. They messed around earlier in the night. So he’s not totally dry. 

But the thing is, Billy’s pretty tight. Steve’s cock straight up doesn’t even fit all the way. Unless Billy’s near his heat, or they’ve taken a lot of time stretching him, knotting isn’t usually a physical possibility. 

It seems like a bad idea to just shove into him. So Steve lies on his stomach and drags his tongue between the soft folds of Billy’s pussy. Taking his time. Spit blending with the increasing slick. By the time he licks Billy’s cock, it’s apparent that Billy’s awake. 

Then he’s shoving Steve away. Closing his legs and rolling over onto his side 

“Wrong.” He murmurs. 

“Wait, what?” Steve sits back, wiping his hand on his arm. Shit. Billy asked for this, right? Like, Steve didn’t just fuck up in a huge way did he?

“Told you to fuck me awake. Not go down on me.”

The hell? Steve reaches for him, resting a hand on his hip and Billy bats his hand away. Apparently uninterested in getting off. 

Well. OK, then. Steve settles back down to sleep. Contemplates jerking off, because eating Billy out always makes him hard. He’s tired though. And it would be unsatisfying when Billy’s lying a foot away from him. He’s starting to doze off again when Billy rolls close to him and whispers in his ear. 

“I want it to hurt.” 

Fuck. Steve bites his lip. He’s not sure why that stuff gets him going. Maybe because Billy is so obviously wet about it. When he’s all spun out, and desperate, and whimpering, _harder, faster, more,_ it’s just real sexy? Maybe it’s hot because it’s a little fucked up. Billy is a little fucked up. Apparently, so is Steve. 

He pushes down the waistband of his shorts and pulls Billy close. He teases the head of his dick between Billy’s legs, sliding over slick skin and his hard little cock. Billy whimpers. Ends up on top of Steve. Grinding on him. So goddamn soaked, but not letting Steve slip inside. He rolls his hips just so. Rubbing against Steve’s dick until he shudders apart. 

Billy jerks Steve off, palms slicked with the mess he just made. When Steve knots, Billy squeezes down around his cock with both hands. So perfect. Milking Steve for all he’s worth, making him groan through the aftershocks. God. 

They lie there in the aftermath, both too lazy to clean up.

***

Billy finds a strawberry popsicle in the back of the freezer, while looking for ice to put in his whiskey. Even though it’s cold outside, he grabs it. Unwraps it. Starts to lick and suck on it while maintaining direct eye contact. 

The red juice clings to his lips. Starts to run down his chin. His bare chest. His mouth is so warm, the popsicle continues to drip even when he’s just holding it. Red splotches hit the tile floor with a soft pattering noise. 

It would be sexy. It is sexy. It also making a mess all over the kitchen. Steve’s mom would have a heart attack if she saw. 

“Billy, come on. You’re getting sugar water that everywhere.”

Billy licks the entire length of the popsicle with one eyebrow raised. Steve sighs. Crouches down with a paper towel and starts trying to clean the floor. Billy doesn’t like it when he’s not the center of attention. Which is probably why there are cold raindrops hitting Steve’s head. Getting in his hair. 

“You’re a fucking child!” Steve recoils. 

Billy grins. Bites the rest of the popsicle off the stick and swallows it. 

“Sorry. Thought you liked it when I was sticky.”

Steve stands up. Grabs Billy’s hand and licks the juice off. Billy shivers. Whines when Steve moves to his chest. Pauses to tease his nipples. Suck on them just a little before licking up Billy’s neck, to his mouth—lips still a little cold from the popsicle. 

Billy squeals when Steve picks him up. But he wraps his legs around Steve’s waist. Doesn’t fight it as he’s carried upstairs. 

“I warned you about making a mess in my mom’s kitchen. Clearly, you’re not getting the message.” Steve sits down on the bed. Billy straddling his lap. 

Billy avoids eye contact. Lip quivering a little. He’s a good actor. Falls into the role right away. 

“I didn’t mean to.”

“Don’t lie. You did it on purpose.”

Steve swats Billy’s ass. Billy gasps. Presses closer against him. Nuzzling against Steve’s neck. 

“No. Please, no. I’ll be good.”

“It’s too late for that. Come on now. You know what you have to do.”

Billy sniffles a little. His eyes already shiny with tears. He can cry on command. Steve’s seen it. A simple _watch this_ and then full tilt waterworks. He says it’s useful for getting out of a bad situation where decking someone isn’t an option. Steve doesn’t really want to think about why that’s a skill Billy would need or regularly use. It’s not like Steve’s ever seen him cry for real.

Despite the pouting, Billy stretches himself over Steve’s lap. Face down in the comforter. Back arched. He’s got an amazing ass. So plump and round, despite how toned the rest of him is. 

Steve slaps his ass. Still through his jeans. Not very hard. Billy still whimpers. Clutching at the blankets. Bracing himself. 

A few more quick smacks. Steve’s hard. Who could blame him, the way Billy’s already squirming on his lap. 

Steve spreads his legs a little, so he can get to the button of Billy’s pants. So he can slide them off, exposing bare skin that’s just a little pink. He dips his hand down between Billy’s thighs, where he’s slick and throbbing. Rubs just a few soft circles around his cock. Billy shudders. 

“You’re such a slut.” Steve pulls his fingers away. Smacking Billy’s ass again. 

He’s never sure how long to go. Billy never tells him to stop. He just keeps moaning and writhing, getting wetter and wetter. 

His palm is starting to sting a little. Billy’s skin is bright red. Steve’s cock is pressing against his zipper. He _aches_ . Steve’s dizzy from all the pheromones hanging heavy in the air. _Happy, fertile, aroused Omega_

So he picks Billy up again and tosses him onto his back. Kicks off his pants. He lines up and sinks into Billy’s perfect warmth. 

***

Billy went to bed drunk. But apparently not drunk enough. As soon as Steve touches him, he jolts awake. Tense. Breathing much too fast. 

“Hey, shhh, it’s OK.” Steve murmurs. 

He rubs Billy’s arm. Trying to settle him. Billy presses closer. Hiding his face in the crook of Steve’s neck. He’s shivering a little. Sometimes that happens when it’s dark, and there’s nobody around to see. Billy will just shake. Not because he’s cold.

Steve isn’t positive he understands why Billy shakes. He just knows it can’t be good.

Billy likes to fight. Billy will take a swing. It’s unusual for an Omega to be so aggressive. Sometimes, Steve wonders if Billy swings first because he got tired of swinging back.

It’s one thing when Billy asks to be smacked around because he gets off on it. Just playing games. Steve is always as gentle as Billy will let him be. 

Steve still feels awful about the time he and Billy actually fought. Can’t believe that he punched an Omega in the face. Like. How scummy is that? He just—he didn’t know what else to do. Billy’s not some hothouse flower. He’s prickly, and mean, and he can really beat the shit out of somebody if he wants to. He looked about ready to murder Lucas. Steve had to do something. 

He knows he’s just making up excuses. At the very least, Billy doesn’t seem to hold it against him. He feels safe enough to fall asleep in Steve’s embrace. 

In some ways, that all just makes the guilt worse. 

***

Billy doesn’t usually like to go out places. Or at least, he doesn’t with Steve. 

He goes to parties. He causes trouble with Tommy and Carol. He does whatever it is he does with the metalheads. It’s just that Steve isn’t like, his friend. So he doesn’t go places with Steve. He only comes to Steve’s house to get laid. 

But it’s a Friday evening. Billy showed up stoned as shit. There’s no food in Steve’s house because his parents haven’t been home in days and he just finished the last of the meatloaf his mom left in the fridge. 

So he convinces Billy to get in the car and go to the diner. Or well, it’s the promise of food that does any actual convincing. It’s still nice to have Billy sitting in a vinyl booth across from him. Soft and smiling. Because he is _ridiculously_ high. Eyes glassy and bloodshot. Whole body relaxed, slumped down in his seat. It just highlights how tense he usually is. 

“What do you wanna get?” Steve nudges Billy’s leg under the table. Billy hasn’t looked at the menu. He’s just chewing on the plastic straw that’s sticking out of his water. Gazing dreamy out the window. 

“Don’t ask that.” 

“What?”

“Just order whatever. I’ll eat it.”

Maybe it’s a trick of the fluorescent lighting that makes Billy look a little flushed. 

Steve blinks a few times. He used to do that for Nancy. Just order whatever he thought she’d like. Not always. Sometimes she wasn’t in the mood for it and she’d speak up as soon as the waiter got there. He always gave her about twenty seconds before going ahead, just in case. 

He's never sure how to feel about those sort of _traditional_ courtship things. Because it comes from weird historical bullshit—like how for a long time Omegas weren’t supposed to talk to strangers under any circumstances. 

The fact that Billy wants it is… surprising? Intriguing? Maybe it shouldn’t be, considering some of the other things Billy wants. 

Steve’s still kind of caught off guard when the waitress approaches. Circles under her eyes, notepad in hand. He panics and orders what he usually does. Cheeseburger and fries. And then two chocolate milkshakes. 

Billy devours the burger like he hasn’t eaten in weeks. Steve tries not to be creepy about just sitting there and watching him as he drinks his shake. Billy is probably too out of it to notice anyway. 

He doesn’t even try to fight Steve for the check, like he does anytime they order a pizza. He just sits there, drinking his shake, and lets Steve pay. 

It feels a lot like a date. That’s probably not a thing Steve should read into. 

***

“The Sheriff keeps inviting me over his house. I think he’s trying to bang me.” Billy is stretched out across a lounge chair by Steve’s pool. It’s probably still a little early in the season for him to be shirtless and in a pair of shorts. It’s April. Only about sixty-five degrees out. 

He looks great, though. All lithe, lean muscle. Basking like a cat in the sunlight. 

“I doubt it.” Steve takes a swig of his beer. “Hop’s not like that.”

“Maybe he’s not to you.” Billy rolls his eyes. 

“What’s that mean?”

“You’re an Alpha.” Billy waves his hand in Steve’s general direction. “You aren’t used to creepy old people trying to get in your pants.”

“Yeah. I guess that’s fair.”

“All my life, parents, teachers, and random people at the grocery store have tried to hit on me. All Alphas are the same. It’s exhausting.”

“All Alphas?” Steve wrinkles his nose. 

“Yes. Including you. You’re still in the pool of people trying to fuck me, even if you’re succeeding. Speaking of… I still want to wake up with your cock in me.”

“I tried!” Steve sputters. “I’ve been trying!”

“Yeah, yeah. Whenever you get around to it, I want to be face down.”

“Sure.”

“I also want to struggle.” Billy wets his lips. 

God. It’s kind of uncomfortable how hot that is. Steve’s not sure what it says about him—that he gets off on Billy pretending he doesn’t want it. Like, Steve would never force himself on somebody. That shit’s fucked up. But when he knows Billy’s into it. The feeling of somebody squirming underneath you, fighting you every step of the way… it must trigger some sort of latent predatory instinct. After all. Deep down, Alphas are hunters. 

Billy catches his eye and grins. Then he’s on his feet. Sprinting away, around the pool and through the glass door into the house. Steve drops his beer and chases him. 

He knows that Billy is faster than him. Easily outruns him at basketball practice. So Billy isn’t trying his very hardest to get away. Steve tears after him. Through the living room. Into the kitchen. They circle around the kitchen island. Billy wide eyed and panting. Steve growls. 

He catches Billy halfway up the stairs. Picks him up and slings him over one shoulder. Billy kicks. Claws at Steve’s back a little, snarling. 

“Fuck you. Put me down.”

“Hmm... I guess.”

Steve walks into the bedroom and throws Billy onto the mattress. Billy backs up into the corner. Tense. Like he’s gonna bolt again. Steve grabs his ankles and drags him down to the edge of the bed, forcing his legs apart. 

Billy thrashes as Steve pulls his shorts down. Billy doesn’t bother with underwear. He’s just slick and exposed. Still half-heartedly trying to get away. 

Steve unzips his jeans. Doesn’t bother to take them off all the way. Just slides them down his thighs along with his boxers. He lines up and presses forward. Just letting the head of his cock slide into the perfect, slippery heat of Billy’s body. 

Billy moans. He forgets to resist. Going lax and pliant. Steve rocks into him slow, pushing forward a little bit at a time. 

“That’s it, baby. Just take it.” Steve murmurs. “You wanted this.”

“No,” Billy all but sobs. “Let me—ugh—let me go.” 

He’s rocking against Steve’s thrusts. Trying to speed them up. Steve keeps his pace steady. Almost all the way in now. Or at least, in as far as he can get. 

“I caught you fair and square.” Steve laughs. “If you don’t like this, you should have run faster.”

“I don’t—I don’t— _ahh—“_

“Yeah, baby. You like it. You love my cock in your tight little pussy.”

“It’s too much.”

Steve rubs his thumb across Billy’s dick. Making him moan. Making him tighten up even more. Steve grunts. Trying to focus. If he doesn’t get Billy off first, he’ll never hear the end of it. 

He picks up some speed. Billy likes getting pounded. His mouth is half open and his eyes are closed. He’s whimpering. _Please. I can’t. Oh. Oh god._

Billy comes on a particularly harsh thrust. He squeezes and flutters around Steve’s cock and it’s pure heaven. He feels the tingling at the base of his cock. He makes it another twenty seconds or so before he wraps a hand around his knot and he’s pumping Billy full of jizz. Making him so sloppy. 

He knows the chances of Billy getting pregnant out of heat are slim to none. He still sometimes wonders if he fucking this much without a condom is a bad idea. Billy doesn’t like condoms though. Refuses to use one. And if Steve tries to pull out Billy starts begging him not to. _Come inside me, wanna feel it, pleasepleaseplease._

Steve falls forward. Kissing along Billy’s jaw to his mouth. Billy’s dazed. So it’s sloppy. Just a smear of lips. 

It’s the best Steve ever feels—kissing Billy in the afterglow. He wishes he could live in these moments all the time. 

***

Steve’s phone rings. It’s seven o’clock on a Tuesday. He’s not sure who would be calling. He picks up anyway. Because he’s lonely. Even if it’s a telemarketer, he wouldn’t hate hearing a human voice. 

“Hello?”

“Um. Hey. It’s Billy.”

“Oh hey. What’s up?”

“Are your parents home?

“Nope.”

“I’m coming over.”

The line goes dead. Well. OK then. Steve waits in the living room, sipping a beer. Billy wasn’t at school yesterday or today. But that’s nothing unusual. He’s absent a lot. 

There’s a knock at the door about five minutes later. Which must mean Billy used the pay phone at the gas station down the road. Steve opens up. 

Billy walks inside. He’s pale. Curled in on himself. He doesn’t make eye contact. He barely kicks off his shoes before he walks up the staircase to Steve’s room. Steve follows. A little off balance. 

Billy smells so fucking good. Sweeter than usual. Ripe and juicy… 

“Are you about to go into heat?” Steve finds himself asking from the doorway. 

Billy is curled up in the middle of the bed, facing the wall. 

“No. It just ended.”

“Oh.”

Steve doesn’t want that to hurt his feelings as much as it does. Doesn’t want to think about Billy fucking someone else in the throes of passion. Letting someone else see him that vulnerable when it’s not something Steve’s been allowed to see. 

“Hold me.”

It’s so quiet Steve barely hears it. Billy sounds so small. So _scared._

Steve sinks into bed and curls around him. Billy’s shaking. It starts to taper off after Steve wraps him in a hug and squeezes him tight. He nuzzles along Billy’s neck. Wants to kiss him. 

With the way Billy is acting, though. He might not like a kiss. 

Steve doesn’t like the way this looks. He’s pretty sure it’s not just jealousy. Something seems very wrong. 

“Billy… did something—“

“No.”

“You didn’t even let me ask—“

“Whatever it is you’re about to say, just don’t.”

Billy’s tensed again. Like he’s not sure if he’ll have to pull away. Like he’ll run if Steve tries to press the issue. So Steve doesn’t. He just lies there until Billy calms down. Until Billy falls asleep. Until they’re both asleep. 

***

Billy is annoying at school.

Used to be that Billy was annoying because he’d get up in Steve’s space, and prod at him, and tease him, and drive him fucking crazy.

Now it’s annoying because Billy does the opposite.

He basically ignores Steve. He’ll strut around as usual, shirt half unbuttoned, hair all teased out, sexy as hell and full of himself. Billy’s constantly hanging all over the football players. Other people on the basketball team. The cheerleaders. Meaty guys with thick arms. Girls with huge tits, muscular thighs and an undeniable hunger in their gaze. Billy surrounds himself with Alphas. Whoever is hot, and strong, and will lose brain cells just from being in his proximity. 

He’s got a reputation for being a flirt. But also for being a slut. Steve doesn’t want to know how many people Billy’s fucked. It’s a lot, if gossip can be relied on.

Maybe people just like to say they hooked up with Billy, because nobody’s gonna contest it. The general populace seems ready to believe Billy’s gotten on just about any dick that was offered. Hell. The first time Steve hooked up with him was in Tommy’s basement. While Tommy was in process of eating him out. So it’s not like there was ever a shred of hope for monogamy. It’s not a subject Steve’s dared to broach. Billy would probably laugh in his face.

Still.

Steve can be clear-eyed about the situation, but he doesn’t have to like it. Maybe on days that Billy kisses somebody else on the cheek, or he giggles when his ass gets grabbed in the hallway, Steve is ready to be rougher than usual. Maybe Billy doesn’t have to goad him into it at all. There’s been a lot of times after basketball practice that Steve dragged Billy into a locker room stall and fucked the living hell out of him. Maybe he wanted someone to find them. Or hear them. To know that Billy is _his._ Even if it’s an ever-fleeting form of possession.

Today, it’s Guss Hardwick. A meathead linebacker with what must be a negative IQ. There are always plenty of Omegas flocking around him. Because he’s almost seven feet tall, and has biceps like pythons, and what’s rumored to be a huge cock. Billy sits in his lap. In the middle of the cafeteria. Smiling and batting his eyelashes while Guss hand-feeds him grapes. It only about five minutes before a teacher breaks it up. _No mating displays on school grounds._ But it still makes Steve’s blood boil.

So after school, he all but drags Billy to the beamer. Shoves him into the back seat. Billy doesn’t ask where they’re going. He just sticks a hand down the front of his jeans and starts touching himself. The smell fills the car, making Steve dizzy. 

He drives all of five minutes until he finds the first dirt road he can pull onto semi-inconspicuously. He’s in the back, on top of Billy, as fast as humanly possible. They grind together. Kissing. Growling. Steve bites Billy’s neck and shoulders hard enough to leave marks. Billy scratches up his back as soon as their shirts are off. They strip out of their pants. Then Steve’s fucking into Billy as hard as he can.

Billy whimpers like it hurts. Maybe it does. It only urges Steve to go faster. Billy wraps his legs around Steve’s waist, pulling him deeper. 

“Gonna breed me?” Billy whispers. Lips kiss bruised. Eyes glimmering. “I want it. Want you to put a baby in me.”

“Yeah. Damn fucking right I will.” Steve snarls. 

“I wanna be so big I can barely walk. Stay in bed all day. Only exercise I’d get is when you fuck me.”

“Jesus.” Steve wraps a hand around Billy’s throat and chokes him a little. “I’m gonna keep you pregnant for _years._ Just one after another. You’re always gonna be full. Don’t you worry.”

Billy falls apart. He’s babbling. _Yes, please, do it, give it to me._ Greedy even as he’s coming. Steve gives him everything he has. By the time he goes over the edge, Billy’s a fucked out mess. Sloppy with slick and come. Sweaty. Flushed. 

“Shit. I need a cigarette.” Billy giggles. Fumbles around for his jacket on the floor. Pulls out his pack. He lights one. They share it. 

Steve doesn’t ask if Billy meant any of it. Even if he wants to. Even if he wonders whether Billy contemplates having kids someday

Being around Billy is about knowing what you’re not allowed to say. Steve isn’t always great at it. But even he knows when things are clearly over the line. When they’re fucking, it’s pure fantasy. Nothing Billy says can be taken seriously. 

They smoke two cigarettes before Steve drives Billy back to the school parking lot and Billy goes home. 

***

Steve sees the bruises like everyone else does. It’s not hard to figure out what happens at Billy’s house. It’s just that Billy doesn’t want to talk about it. If Steve tries to bring it up, sometimes Billy will actually storm out. 

Billy gets into plenty of altercations. He’s got a big mouth, and he insults people, and if someone he deems unworthy comes onto him—he’ll retaliate with violence. The really bad bruises, the limping, the split lips, they’re not coming from anything that happens at school. They appear when Billy stays at Steve’s house too late, or doesn’t leave early enough in the morning to sneak back into his room. They appear on days after the phone rings, and Neil is on the other end of the line, asking where his son is. 

“We could say something.” Steve offers, because it’s a Saturday, and Billy’s got a black eye he didn’t have yesterday, and he’s in a terrible mood. He arrived already drunk. 

“About what?” Billy’s speech drags. He’s standing in the kitchen, smoking a cigarette. Even though Steve’s told him over and over again not to do that. 

He reaches for the cigarette and Billy steps away. Glaring at him. He takes an extra long drag and blows the smoke in Steve’s face. 

“Your dad. We could say something to like, a teacher or the counselor or something.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“He did that to your eye.”

“No he didn’t.”

“Billy.”

“Fuck off, Princess. You don’t know shit about me or my life.” 

Billy ashes his cigarette on the granite counter. Like he’s daring Steve to say something about it. Steve just wipes it off and tries to grab for the cigarette again. Billy side steps him and swats his hand away. Surprisingly in control of his motor skills, considering the circumstances. 

“You can’t smoke in here.” Steve feels the annoyance starting to bubble. The heat in his chest. Billy is good at getting a rise out of people. Mashing buttons until he provokes a reaction. 

“I can do whatever I want. You’re obviously not gonna stop me.”

Billy swaggers over to the liquor cabinet. Pulls down the most expensive scotch that Steve’s dad owns. The stuff that only comes out for business partners. He takes a swig straight from the bottle, maintaining direct eye contact. He drinks it so sloppy that it runs out the corners of his mouth and down his chin. 

Steve lunges for him. Billy’s quick. On the other side of the kitchen in half a second, still holding the bottle. 

“Careful. You don’t want me to drop this do you? Shit looks fancy.”

“Give it back, Billy.”

“If you weren’t such a limp-dicked bitch, you’d make me.”

Steve doesn’t want to play this game right now. But Billy takes another long drink from the bottle. That’s Steve’s moment to lunge and grab him. Billy must be startled. His grip slips. Steve catches the bottle a few inches off the floor. No shattered glass, but a decent amount of liquid sloshed across the tile. 

He has no idea how he’ll explain why a third of the bottle is gone. Steve grabs the cork from the counter top and places the bottle back in the cabinet. Billy takes another drag off his cigarette. Stepping away from the puddle on the floor. 

“Told you to be careful.” He mutters. Then he wanders off toward the living room. Still smoking. 

Steve’s mopping up the mess when he hears a record start to play. Elvis. Billy starts to sing along with it, off key and harsh. 

_“You look like an angel, walk like an angel, talk like an angel, but I got wise. You’re the devil in disguise…”_

Maybe it’s supposed to be ironic. 

When Steve gets to the living room, Billy’s dancing. Swaying back and forth, drinking from his flask, trailing ash on the carpet. There is no path of least resistance. No matter what happens next, it’s going to be messy. 

“Billy, if you’re gonna smoke, can you please go outside?” 

Billy just swishes his hips, avoiding eye contact. Twirling around in front of the fireplace. 

“Billy.”

No response. 

“If you’re gonna be like this, maybe you should just leave.”

Billy stops. Swivels around. Walk towards Steve with a glint in his eye.

“Oh yeah? Not worth keeping around if I’m not following orders, huh?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.” Billy blows another cloud in his face. “I can read between the lines.”

“You’re just—drunk. And pissy. This isn’t fun.”

“God you’re pathetic.” Billy snorts. “Life ain’t always _fun_ , Sweetheart. Sometimes people aren’t nice _._ I don’t owe you shit. And I’m not gonna apologize for getting a little testy when you stick your oversized nose where it doesn’t belong.”

“I’m just trying to help you.”

“Please. What’s a skinny bastard like you gonna do to help me? Talking to a teacher? Jesus. We’re not in fucking kindergarten.” 

“But we could—“

“We. Aren’t doing shit. You’re not my Alpha. You aren’t anything to me. I’m a hole to fuck and you’re a cock to ride. That’s it.”

It hurts. Stings a raw nerve, because Steve’s not sure how much Billy means it. If it’s the booze, or the bitterness that always seeps out around his jagged edges, or if it’s true that Billy couldn’t care less who’s fucking him as long as he’s full. 

“Fine.” Steve shrugs. “If that’s how you feel, go find someone else’s house to trash.”

“Want me to drive home drunk, big guy? What a fuckin’ gentleman.” Billy laughs at him. Swelling with the adrenaline rush of an argument. He clearly likes this. He likes to lash out at people. 

Steve’s an idiot that keeps standing in the line of fire. 

He manages to pluck the smoldering cigarette butt from Billy’s fingers and walk it to the bathroom, flushing it down the toilet. Billy follows him. 

“Are you kicking me out or not? You got the balls to throw me to the sidewalk?”

Steve wishes he did. Billy’s standing there. Blocking the door. Like Steve’s gonna have to shove him out of the way to get past. Like it’s either that or just stand there in the bathroom, looking like a moron. 

There’s a third option. 

Steve approaches. It’s just a few steps, but he can see the way Billy tenses. Bracing for something. Anything besides the hug Steve wraps him in. 

“Get off me!” Billy squirms, but not very hard. 

Steve just keeps holding onto him. Breathing in his scent. There’s the sharp, coppery tint of anger. The acrid smoke and whiskey clinging to his skin. Underneath though, he’s still peaches and cream. So sticky sweet. Steve wants to drown in it. 

“I don’t want you to leave.” Steve says, steady as he can. “I just wish you’d stop trying to pick a fight.”

“I’m not…” Billy trails off. He’s leaning into Steve’s embrace now. Going pliant. 

Before too much longer, he lets Steve pick him up and carry him to the couch. He sits in Steve’s lap, head resting on his shoulder, legs stretched out on the cushions. Steve kisses him on the forehead, rubs his back. Billy huffs a little, but doesn’t tell him to stop. 

***

Steve knows he’s in trouble when he gets home and his parents car is in the driveway. 

They were supposed to be gone for another two days. There’s a pack of cigarettes sitting out by the pool. Beer cans in the trash. Worst of all—his sheets are a disaster. Drenched in come and slick, reeking of sex. 

His mother is in the kitchen, putting away groceries. His father is presumably upstairs in his study. 

“Good afternoon, Steven.” His mother smiles, strained and obviously displeased. 

“Hey mom. You guys are back early.”

“Yes. Your father had some urgent business to attend to.”

“Can I do anything to help with dinner—or?” Steve’s heart is thumping. He knows he’s obvious. Only ever offers to cook when he’s guilty. 

“No. I think you’ve done enough.”

Steve wants to shrink and melt into the floor. The yelling won’t come until later. After she’s had a few martinis and a valium. 

_You have to stop bringing that trashy Omega into my home. You know he’s just hanging around until you get him pregnant so he can trap our family into paying child support._

She’s only met Billy once. That was apparently enough of an impression. 

She liked nancy. Sweet, virginal Nancy, that came from a _good family_. Of course, Nancy wasn’t a virgin after Steve got done with her. But she certainly gave off the prudish air that mothers love. 

Billy is. Well. Billy. He’s got a mullet, a pierced ear, constantly reeks of cigarettes and booze. He wears low cut shirts and tight pants. He looks like trouble. It’s not an inaccurate representation. Billy is trouble. 

Steve still likes him, though. Steve likes him a lot. 

He slinks back to his room to hide until dinner time. As expected, there are clean sheets on his bed. Perhaps he’s a bad person, but all he can think about is the next time he’ll be able to get Billy over here to ruin them again. 

***

It’s not like, an ideal situation. Steve and Billy are upstairs, locked in the guest room at Tommy’s house. The party has wound down quite a bit, but there’s still music playing. Some people are still awake. It’s probably kind of risky.

But Billy’s passed out. He’s so pretty. He smells so nice. Steve wants to give him what he’s been asking for. He doesn’t want to _wait_ any longer. 

He moves carefully. Unbuttoning Billy’s jeans and sliding them off. Billy doesn’t stir. He just stays limp as a rag doll. Doesn’t wake up when Steve rolls him over onto his stomach. Doesn’t wake up when Steve nudges a pillow underneath his hips and pushes his legs apart. 

Steve’s heart hammers in his throat. He feels a little dizzy with what he’s about to do. It still seems wrong. Penetrating someone that’s unconscious. It’s dirty. Disgusting. Steve’s never been harder. 

He wants to finger Billy a little. He’s not supposed to. So he lines up and sinks in. 

Billy’s so tight it’s almost uncomfortable. Steve gasps. Billy makes a little confused noise. Then Steve starts up. Fucking him fast as he dares. And that definitely wakes Billy up. He’s immediately trying to struggle away. Steve drops down on top of him, blanketing him, barring an arm across Billy’s neck to keep him from going anywhere. 

“Just relax, baby.” Steve whispers. 

Billy does not relax. 

He thrashes. Squirms so much he almost manages to throw Steve off. He’s… crying? Shaky little sobs getting louder. 

_“No, please, don’t…”_

Steve claps a hand over his mouth. 

“Shhhh. Shhhh, baby. You don’t want the rest of the house to hear, do you?”

Billy comes. 

He comes so hard, clenches so tight, it almost knocks the wind out of Steve too. Steve shoves a few fingers into Billy’s mouth for him to suck on. Billy does. Sloppy. His cheeks are wet. He’s still crying. 

Steve wants to stop to ask if he’s OK. But that’s a thing Billy hates. He doesn’t want to be checked on. He says _that’s not the point._

_If I ever really don’t like it, I’ll rip your fucking head off Harrington. I think we both know I could kick your ass. Don’t worry about it._

The air is heavy with the scent of sex. The sheets are going to be a mess. Steve can’t help himself. He has to mouth at the curve of Billy’s neck. Bite him. _Mine, mine, mine_. Billy’s breath hitches. He’s drooling around Steve’s fingers. Unfocused. He gets real spaced out sometimes. Especially when things are this intense. 

Steve wants a better angle. Which means he has to withdraw for a second. He yanks Billy’s hips back. Props him up on all fours. Billy’s arm’s are too shaky. He collapses immediately. Resting his head on the mattress, ass in the air. 

That moment when Steve slides in is always so sweet. Being enveloped in the slippery smooth warmth. Billy’s real wet now. Steve goes in easier. He can really move. Fuck him hard and deep. He’s actually… all the way in. Billy’s shuddering. Sobbing. 

“Gonna knot you, baby.” Steve murmurs. As much a warning as it is a promise. 

“No—I can’t—it won’t—“ Billy hiccups. Voice muffled against the blankets. 

He’s right. It might not fit. If it really won’t Steve isn’t gonna force it. That doesn’t mean they can’t try.

“It’ll be OK. Don’t worry, baby. You can take it.”

Steve starts to feel the tingling at the base of his cock. He sinks in to the hilt. Just kind of grinds, not wanting to pull out so much as an inch as his knot starts to swell.

_“Stop.”_ It’s so high pitched and pathetic.

Steve almost feels guilty. That’s before his knot catches, and he’s having the orgasm of his goddamn life. He slumps forward. Still moving a little, to feel the tug of Billy around him. Billy whimpers with every exhale. Covered in sweat. 

Neither of them are gonna be able to stay upright for long. So Steve carefully arranges them, laying on their sides. His knot goes down after about a minute. Billy’s still panting. Jolts when it slides out.

“You OK?” Steve kisses his neck. Slips his hand between Billy’s legs. It’s hard to tell in the dark, whether or not there’s any blood mixed in with the mess. He doesn’t smell it, at least. 

Billy doesn’t respond. Just gives a little _mmmf_ and hides his face in the pillows. Steve gives him a little bit before asking him again. 

“You alive?”

“Yes.”

“Did I hurt you?”

“I… I’m fine.”

“Is that what you wanted?”

“Uh huh.”

It’s a little bit longer before Billy turns towards him. Kisses him. 

“Jesus, I can't believe you actually did it.” Billy giggles a little. He sounds stoned. All light and spacey. “I was starting to think you were too much of a bitch to try.”

“You’re _welcome_ , Billy.”

“Oh whatever. You got off too. It’s not like you were doing me a selfless favor.” Billy shifts a little. Pressing his sticky thighs together. “Christ, I’m gonna be sore tomorrow. Gimmie a cigarette.”

“I don’t know if we should—“

“Open a window if you must. But I need to smoke.”

Steve sighs. But he gets up and opens the window. Grabs Billy’s jacket off the floor and roots through the pockets until he finds the cigarettes and lighter. 

Billy groans at the first inhale. Stretching across the bed, putting his pale skin on full display in the moonlight like some Bond movie Femme Fatale. Steve lies down next to him. Sleepy. Sated. Probably in love, but that’s not something he needs to mention. 

**Author's Note:**

> I... feel like I should apologize? But I mean. There's gonna be more. So.
> 
> Title from "I Am A Hologram" by Mister Heavenly.


End file.
